


Every man is guilty (of all the positions he didn't try)

by BakedAppleSauce



Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: (but they're trying goddammit), (in the most harmless way possible), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Sexual Experimentation, both of them are bad at feelings, for no reason at all, people being dramatic, primo is bad communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27563869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedAppleSauce/pseuds/BakedAppleSauce
Summary: “What the hell are you talking about,” Leonardo says, which doesn’t sound convincing even to his own ears. He knows exactly what Primo is talking about; given that it’s fairly obvious and Leonardo is not an idiot. Primo is very clearly thinking the same thing, because instead of an answer he just shrugs again. Waiting him out. They both know Leonardo will have to fill the silence sooner or later, it’s just the way he’s wired, and for a moment, he all but hates Primo for being aware of that.In which some people would like to try something new.(This is a very loose sequel toMay God defend me from my enemies,or at least set in the same universe, but it's pretty self-explanatory.)
Relationships: Leonardo/Primo Nizzuto
Comments: 32
Kudos: 161





	Every man is guilty (of all the positions he didn't try)

Primo takes a long drag of his cigarette, and says, “Anybody ever ride you?”

Leonardo, who’s busy pouring over some numbers, because there is work to be done and there will be for the next twenty years if they play their cards right, is only half-listening, which is always a gamble as far as having a conversation with Primo is concerned. It takes his brain two seconds to catch up with the question inside his head, and then he looks up sharply.

“Anybody ever _what?”_

Primo shrugs, languid like water, looking way too casual. 

“That’s your hearing starting to go, I guess,” he says and then repeats, long-suffering, like he’s the one doing Leonardo a favor, here, “Anybody ever ride you?” 

“What the hell are you talking about,” Leonardo says, which doesn’t sound convincing even to his own ears. He knows exactly what Primo is talking about; given that it’s fairly obvious and Leonardo is not an idiot. Primo is very clearly thinking the same thing, because instead of an answer he just shrugs again. Waiting him out. They both know Leonardo will have to fill the silence sooner or later, it’s just the way he’s wired, and for a moment, he all but hates Primo for being aware of that. 

Might as well just get it over with. 

“What,” he says impatiently and then he _has_ to lower his voice for the next part, can’t help himself, it feels absolutely obscene saying it out loud. “In bed, you mean?”

This seems like an insane conversation to have, he thinks, in general, but especially out here in the kitchen, out in the _open,_ for all that this is Primo’s house and they're the only two people in here. 

“No, actually,” Primo dead-pans. “You see, I was comparing you to a fucking horse.”

“Well, thank you for that,” Leonardo says, feeling flustered and hating himself for it. “That’s very flattering. Also... let me just clarify first, okay? Have you lost _your fucking mind?”_

They have been sleeping with each other on a semi-regular basis and it’s been… _good_ so far, for lack of a better word, which is par for the course, really, because Leonardo sincerely doubts it would keep happening if it wasn’t. That doesn’t mean they talk about these things. 

There is a long moment of silence. 

Then Primo exhales smoke and, calm as anything, says, “I’ll take that as a no.”

It’s fucking infuriating, is what it is, because Leonardo is not obligated to tell him _shit._ It’s none of his business. 

“We’re not talking about this,” he says. Hopes that his face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Any of it.”

“Just trying to make conversation,” Primo says innocently. 

“Shut up,” Leonardo tells him and holds out a contract. “If you’re this bored, why don’t you try helping me out instead?”

“I thought I _was,”_ Primo says, grinning, but he takes the stack of papers without protest, sinking deeper into his chair. 

Mother of Christ, Leonardo thinks, what if he starts getting comfortable just saying things like that out loud, without any warning at all? He’s a menace already. What the fuck is Leonardo supposed to do then? 

* * *

Inevitably, the next time they end up in bed together, it comes up. Of course it does. 

It’s not even Primo who brings it up first, because Primo seems happy enough taking his cues from Leonardo tonight, which happens a lot more than Leonardo initially expected. He’s bossy, yes, and irritating, and sometimes he clearly has _ideas_ about how this particular encounter is going to play out, and if Leonardo doesn’t agree, well that’s on him; but at the same time, the opposite is true. 

And it’s not like Leonardo has been thinking about it _constantly_ since Primo first brought it up, he’s got better things to do with his time, thank you very much, but now, like this, with Primo sitting right next to him on the bed, studiously unbuttoning his shirt while he’s sprawling his legs, pressing his thigh against Leonardo’s own, it’s impossible not to _remember._

Not just because the idea of it is… very tempting, to say the least, but also because he can’t help but think, all of a sudden, that it might have been Primo’s way of asking for something. He realizes that Primo is staring at him. The shirt has disappeared and honestly, it should be illegal to look like this, especially for somebody who already possesses the strange, destructive draw of a large fire. 

“I’m sorry,” Primo says, very clearly basking in the way Leonardo’s attention has zeroed in on him, like he always does. “Am I boring you?”

“Yes,” Leonardo fires back. “Always. What gave it away?” but it’s no use, because he’s already reaching for him, it feels impossible not to touch, both of them turning towards each other and then they’re kissing. Leonardo pushes a hand into his hair, not quite making a fist, and Primo makes a low, hungry noise and clutches at his shoulders; licks and bites at Leonardo’s lower lip until he gives in and lets Primo work his tongue inside. 

“What…” Leonardo mutters eventually, still close enough he can feel Primo’s breath ghost over his chin. “What was that the other day? About somebody riding me?”

Primo pulls back a bit and blinks at him once, the only sign of surprise, but his expression has gone slack at the same time, mouth falling open the tiniest bit, which is a pretty decent indicator he might not be opposed to the idea. 

“What if I was just curious?” he says then, sly. “What if I just wanted to know?”

“In that case, forget I said anything then,” Leonardo says. “Just making sure.”

 _“Ohhh,”_ Primo says mockingly. “Making sure, are you?” 

“It’s important to follow up on request like that,” Leonardo says seriously, like they’re talking business. Can’t quite explain why he’s feeling bold all of a sudden, when the topic made him want to crawl under the table not even a week ago, but here they are. Maybe the fact that they’re both half-undressed and about to fuck in the near future has something to do with it, he thinks, who can say.

Primo is chewing on his lower lip, looking pensive, but clearly interested. Leonardo’s hand is still cupping the spot where his neck meets his shoulders, thumb stroking gently over his collarbone. His skin feels fever-hot to the touch.

“Sure,” Primo says after a long moment of consideration. “Why not. If you _insist.”_

“Excuse me, _I_ am not insisting on anything-”

“If you _insist,”_ Primo says again, grinning at him triumphantly, and Leonardo realizes it was the right decision to bring it up again, because this is clearly something Primo wanted. 

* * *

About half an hour later, it turns out Primo is fucking terrible at it. Leonardo wasn’t aware you could be actively bad at sleeping with somebody, but it’s not like he has a ton of experience in that regard and in any case – here they fucking are. Primo doesn’t seem to know what to do, which makes the whole thing incredibly awkward. Or it would be, if it wasn’t for the fact that, well… Primo has impaled himself on Leonardo’s cock, which feels fucking _amazing_ regardless; and he’s on full display as well, nothing but strong thighs and hard, compact muscle, arms and chest slightly more tan than the rest of him. 

He looks _indecent,_ almost criminally good, which is something he seems to be well aware of usually, basking in any attention he can get, but now he seems self-conscious, of all things, which make Leonardo wonder why he even wanted to try this in the first place. 

“Have you done it before?” Leonardo says, truly baffled by this development and trying not to let it show. “Like this, I mean?”

“None of your fucking business,” Primo snaps, which means no. Obviously. 

“Listen,” Leonardo says, then inhales sharply before he can continue, because Primo just clenched down around his cock, something he has been doing for the past ten minutes, almost unconsciously, like he can’t help himself. “We don't have to-”

 _"Shut up,"_ Primo says and he’s very clearly _trying_ to sound confident, but the usual arrogance isn’t there. 

“Alright, okay, fine,” Leonardo rasps. “Just.. let’s try something, hmm? Just sit there for a minute. Here, let me-" 

Primo looks like he wants to protest some more, skeptically watching as Leonardo reaches for his cock, but he immediately relaxes a bit at the first touch, sinking down more heavily on top of him, some of the tension bleeding away. He’s still mostly hard, which is a miracle in itself, because he doesn't seem comfortable at all. Again, Leonardo considers suggesting to just leave it be, do something else instead, because it’s not like they lack options. Decides against it, ultimately, because it’s blatantly obvious Primo will just insist that everything is fine. Instead he makes it a point to stroke his cock, careful and methodical; makes it a point to tighten his grip right under the cockhead before he drags his palm all the way up, because that's usually what gets Primo going the most. 

_"Oh,"_ Primo says, after the third time Leonardo does it and gives him a tiny, involuntary roll of his hips. 

_There we go,_ Leonardo doesn’t say, because he has no intention of ruining this. Keeps going instead, touching him carefully until he’s panting and moving around restlessly, trying to fuck Leonardo’s hand. 

“Fuuuck,” Primo says eventually, drawing out the vowel. He leans backwards, catching himself on his hands and grips for balance right above Leonardo’s knees. He’s still uncoordinated, like he knows which sensation he wants out of this with no clear idea of how to get there, but he’s trying now. Leonardo lets go of his cock, which earns him an impatient noise, and puts both hands on his thighs instead. God, he’s hard.

“So what,” Primo says breathlessly after he’s done that for a while, working them both up into a greater state of urgency. He's clearly enjoying himself now, face flushed. “Are you just going to lie there?”

Leonardo snorts. “You want me to contribute something?” 

“If you don’t mind-” Primo says and then he says “ _hnn-”_ because Leonardo has planted both of his feet on the mattress and rolled his hips.

Primo falls forward, catching himself on his palms, one hand on the mattress, the other one on Leonardo’s chest and lets his knees slide apart a bit more. The first time Leonardo fucks up and into him again makes them both groan, so he keeps going. 

_“Fuck-”_ Primo hisses, spine curving into an arch, and he’s moving with Leonardo now, instinctual and a lot more sure of himself, bearing down when Leonardo pushes up from the bed with a grunt. They’ve got it now, Leonardo thinks, grabbing his hips to pull him down even harder, which makes Primo’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open, there they are, this is it, easy as anything.

Leonardo almost manages to make him come like that – keeps going until they’re both drenched in sweat and Primo’s hair is falling into his face, one strand right across the bridge of his nose like a knife wound. Until his thighs are trembling and they’re both cursing under their breath, staring at each other without shame. 

Primo fumbles for his own cock, but he doesn’t even get to do much more than that, because Leonardo fucks it right out of him; he’s coming as soon as his fingers wrap around, clawing at Leonardo’s thigh with his free hand as he sits down heavily to ride it out, spasming around Leonardo in time with his own pulsing cock, breathing gone harsh and desperate. 

“Jesus, _fuck-”_ Leonardo groans and pulls him in with a steel grip around the nape of his neck, as soon as Primo falls forward again, sinks down on top of him, gone absolutely boneless. Can’t help but snap his hips up, fuck into the perfect heat of him until he comes as well, the shocked little noises Primo makes only turning him on more, making it so much better, _oh, Christ-_

* * *

Afterwards, he doesn’t immediately ask, because he doesn’t want to ruin the afterglow. It’s nice – the both of them just lying there in a daze, staring up at the ceiling. Still, Primo must sense the question coming, because out of the corner of his eye, Leonardo spots him tipping his head to the side, staring directly at him. 

“So?” Primo says.

“So…? What?”

“Ask.”

Leonardo sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why did I want to do it like this, if I had no idea what I was doing?”

Leonardo pushes an arm underneath his head, turns to look at him. They’re not even touching, and Leonardo’s come is still dripping out of him, presumably, but for some strange, inexplicable reason, _this_ feels more intimate than anything else they’ve done tonight. 

“You didn’t?”

“Oh please,” Primo says with a sneer. “It was fucking _obvious.”_

“Well,” Leonardo says, because… well, it was. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that… you probably wanted to try it?”

That earns him an impatient scoff, like he is missing the entire point. Which he very well might be, because he honestly has no idea what kind of reaction Primo is expecting him to have. 

“Shut up,” Primo mutters, before turning his head away again, demonstratively goes back to staring at the ceiling. “And anyway, what are you complaining about? It went great.”

“Yes,” Leonardo says seriously, trying not to smile at his petulant attitude. “Yes, it did.”

“You’re welcome,” Primo says, benevolent, which makes Leonardo laugh. 

A few quiet moments pass them by, and just when Leonardo thinks that they’re done talking about it, because this obviously is as far as Primo is willing to go, he suddenly says, sounding determined, “I don’t always like people staring at me.”

“...what,” Leonardo says, because this is the first time he’s hearing about this. 

“Not…” Primo says impatiently, because he’s interpreting the confusion correctly. “Not generally speaking. _During,_ I mean.”

“Oh.”

“It’s why I don’t like fucking face to face,” Primo says – like that is a given, like that makes any sense at all; which it _doesn’t,_ it absolutely fucking doesn’t, Leonardo thinks, a strange buzzing in his ears, because so far, they’ve been fucking face to face every other time they’ve done it, and not once did he get the impression Primo was… not _enjoying_ himself. On the contrary, Primo is usually the one who chooses the position anyway, and he’s voluntarily put himself on his back right from the very beginning.

“Yeah, no,” Leonardo says and clears his throat, heartbeat hammering inside his chest. “That… sure. Makes perfect sense.”

“So… that’s why,” Primo continues. Leonardo can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. “But that went well. We should definitely do that again.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Leonardo says quickly. “Just say the word.”

“Like I did last time?” Primo says, suddenly grinning. “You’ll just turn beet red again and tell me to shut the fuck up.”

“That’s not- I didn’t-” Leonardo sputters. “Oh, shut up!”

“See?”

Unbelievable, Leonardo thinks, swatting at his shoulder while trying not to grin back.

What did he ever do to deserve this? 

**Author's Note:**

> Another addition to the "waiting room-porn" collection lmao.  
>   
> Btw I'm [bakedapplesauce](https://bakedapplesauce.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
